Mercy killing
by we were made to be ruled
Summary: The Joker can be merciful if he wants to. His ideas of mercy might just differ from yours. WARNINGS: language, self harm, death


warnings : this contains self harm, murder/assisted suicide and swearing so if that's an issue you should probably stop reading now.

OK disclaimer time: Gotham and the Joker are, regrettably, not mine. The girl however is.

This was written very quickly in the early hours of the morning (UK time) so it's slightly rushed - apologies.

Anyway, reviews and criticisms are more than welcome. Flames will be used to dry the tears of the fucks I don't give.

She wept silently. Not needing to muffle her tears with her pillows or hands; not even needing to steady herself. She merely sat silently on her bed and cried. The movements seemed practised, repeated. There was a monotony to the way she wiped away her tears, the traces of her sorrow.

She reached under her bed with practised ease to retrieve a small navy box, possibly once containing jewellery. She opened it to remove the small flip knife. It had a cheap wooden handle which was worn smooth by age and use; it's blade however was burnished and well kept. She pulled some tissues from a box by her bedside and set them down.

The stokes of the knife on her hips were deep and achingly slow. The skin they cleaved was already marred with fine white lines and ugly red ones. She paused, her body still craving the knifes sweet kisses, and moved the blade to her throat so it sat comfortingly on her jugular. The robotic, efficient part of her mind which currently paralysed her in it's grip knew it would take minimal effort to move that blade. To end it. That part however, was betrayed by her humanity.

She let out a single wretched sob, not poetically beautiful but enough to make a grown man wince; it caused her to shock herself into dropping both the blade and the wad of tissues carefully pressed on her hip. As if broken from a trance she reared back from the blood stained sheets. She swore under her bed knowing this could not be explained.

_stupid girl_

She backed away into a pair of boots carelessly strewn on her floor and locked her eyes on a thick black coat. Without thinking she put them on. It was hard to explain but it seemed like the right thing to do. She looked in the mirror and saw blood blossoming on the loose white shirt she wore, long enough to be a dress. She moved the coat open to make it visible.

_if you're not going to do it yourself why not let someone else?_

Though she grimaced at the voice she didn't try to deny it. Instead she walked to her mothers room and quietly opened the door. No one was there of course; three days had passed since her mother last made an appearance.

_if that's not a sign I don't know what is. Now go you stupid girl._

The girl glided to the door of the apartment block she called home and gently pushed it open. She was greeted by bitter snow and a yellowish light that conquered any attempt at darkness. That saddened her, peace was always found in the shadows. However such was the way of the Narrows. She hated her the Narrows, hated Gotham; but she knew she would hate any place she called home.

_home is where the heart is_

If that was the case then the girl may as well have been on the streets. Hearts were dangerous, nothing more than a place for hopelessness to breed and spread until it devours your very soul.

She hadn't even noticed she had started moving until she heard the slam of the door behind her. She swallowed audibly: she may not regret her choice but it didn't make it easier.

_hush, it's okay. Just walk forwards till you hear something_

And she did. She walked through the snow for what felt like years, leaving behind her a trail of blood like breadcrumbs. Blemishes of red in the grey trodden sludge, they were beautiful. In the end though she didn't need to hear anything or to find someone.

She had forgotten they could find her first.

That, the girl told herself, was the only reason she let out an unearthly squeal when the man pounced on her. He was like a cat, she pondered, taking down a mouse. He wouldn't grant her a swift death; rather he would toy with her, crush her and leave her for some other predator to find.

_which is what you want. You're to much of a coward to kill yourself so you waltz through the most dangerous part of the city to find someone to do it for you, it's funny you know, just how much of a filthy coward you are._

The girl didn't even notice the smile slowly creeping across her face.

"Welllll isn't _that_ a nice surprise?" drawled the man. Lengthening and exaggerating his words."_Most _of the dames aren't so... _willing _to give me a nice. Big. Smiiile."

_well damn_

The girl looked up from the grey and red ground and her eyes followed the green and purple attire the man wore. Eventually she saw the white greasepaint, red lips, torn cheeks and dark glistening eyes that matched the voice she recognised instantly.

"Tah dah! Well doll face aren't you in for a _treat _tonight," Cackled the Joker.

With that he grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her up against the wall; by this point her face was blank and shaking gently from side to side. The Jokers eyes narrowed.

"_Where's. My. Smile_,"He growled. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, flickering like a reptile.

The girl gazed up at him, eyes now full of mirth, refusing to smile.

_that's it girl, make him angry. It won't be long now._

The Joker relaxed his grip as confusion flitted across his features.

"Well aren't you just a _special little snowflake, _you're actuuually _choosing _ interesssting."

With that he pushed the coat of her shoulders and inspected her body like a man looking at a horse to buy. His eyes lingering at the blood stains. The girl shivered, both with the cold and her discomfort of being so exposed. She flushed red at his appraising eyes.

The Joker chuckled darkly "_Relax_ kid. I'm above the more_ carnal_ desires of man, i'm not planning on _fucking_ you. These," He jabbed at her cuts ",are faaaar more interesting."

He licked the blood of his gloved hand and, almost lovingly, traced the marks. He looked up to the line of blood on her neck from her blade. The skin unmarred by lacerations but only carrying traces of red.

"You were gonna _do it_," he whispered with undisguised glee, "cut your pretty little throat and let yourself _bleed _dry. _Spectacular_." His tone immediately changed to a harsh shout, "But you didn't! You couldn't do it! Fucking _coward_,"

The girl stared shaking violently her eyes boring holes into the Jokers. Though she made no sound her lips danced, rapidly sighing the echoes of the words she couldn't say.

_yes, please, sorry, do it, do it, do it_

The Joker cocked his head, as if parodying wisdom and deep thought.

Then he started to laugh. Deep throaty laughs which gave way to shrill childish giggles.

"Tell you what doll face I'll do it, out of the kindness of my heart! I'm doing a fucking _mercy killing _- who would of guessed? Batsy's gonna have a _fun_ time cleaning this up!" His voice softened, "Of course no ones gonna know princess. No we can't have _that_. You'll just be another statistic."

He spun the girl against his chest and held the knife to her throat.

"But I'll ahhh,_ remember_ _you_, doll face. I'll swear _that_ to you. Out of all the machines i _shut down. _You'll have a place of honour."

_remembered by someone like him? you did good girl_

A grin blossomed once more on the girls face and she turned her chin up obligingly. She felt the cold knife slice through her throat and crimson flow out of her body into the cold air. The Joker held her up as she died and she kept smiling even as her eyes closed and darkness overwhelmed her.

_peace at last_

The Joker laid the girls body in the snow and tutted down at her.

"And theythink _i'm_ crazy!" he muttered, leaving behind the body of the strange girl without a second glance.


End file.
